


Promise

by Bubbly_Kandy



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Forehead Kisses, Graphic Self-Harm, Heavy Angst, I am so sorry, I cried as I wrote this, Italics are spoken words, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-harm in the form of biting, Self-harm in the form of cutting, Self-harm in the form of picking at your skin, Self-harm in the form of scratching, injuries, nose kisses, possible trigger warnings, talking through issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 16:38:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12303204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubbly_Kandy/pseuds/Bubbly_Kandy
Summary: Jeremy promised.But, sometimes, promises are meant to be broken.





	Promise

Michael, in eighth grade, cut himself.

It wasn't anything much (yet it was too much), just a few lines, maybe five on each wrist. He had been so terrified of what he had done that he came clean to his mom's, sobbing and begging for forgiveness. His mom's immediately signed him up for therapy, and he’s been clean for 3 years, now.

(There was a time in ninth grade. Michael doesn't talk about that time in ninth grade. Ninth grade was stressful, and added two more marks to Michael's collection. No one likes the incident in ninth grade.)

When he gets the urge, when the itch starts to burn his arms so much that his chest feels tight and it wants to snap, he drowns it out with music, or with sketching (but mostly with pot.) He doesn't want to fall down that slope again, where the incline gets higher and more slippery the longer you don’t tell anyone. (You want to tell everyone but keep it a secret at the same time, and _God,_ that is a horrible feeling.)

When Jeremy found out, he had, what Michael's Mama explained to him later, a panic attack. His breath got shaky, and tears welled up in his eyes, and when Michael screamed for his Nanay saying _Mommy help Jeremy is scaring me_ he made a little sound and flinched, covering his ears. Jasmine, Michael’s Nanay, ran up the stairs, ushered Michael away a bit, and softly started to talk to Jeremy, who had his fingers entwined in his hair, eyes squeezed shut, and a hunched posture.

_Jeremy, please, breathe, take a deep breath, can you do that, sweetie?_

_No, no, nonono I can’t it hurts I’m scared I- I don’t like it please I can’t_

_Jeremy, Dayong, can you please try?_

_No no no no I don't like it please_

Jeremy was wheezing, and Michael had never heard anyone actually wheeze before, it was always a thing that he knew existed, but never saw. Until now.

Michael started to panic too, his chest growing tight. His eyes were watering at seeing Jeremy like this, in a state of fear, and when Jeremy collapses on the ground, Michael has to sit on his bed and cover his ears to block out the sobs and wheezes coming from his best friend.

Michael's mom suddenly ushered him over, gesturing for him to sit by her. Michael didn't want to be in such close proximity of Jeremy’s breakdown, but he still felt his body stand and sit by the two others.

Jeremy was trembling, and tears were running down his face. Michael looked at Jasmine, a silent plea of _please fix him_ in his eyes.

Michael then remembered that _he_ was the cause of all this, the cause of Jeremy sobbing and breathing weird. A sudden gnawing of horrible guilt in his chest made him almost get up and leave, but he stayed, saying,

_Hey, buddy, it's me, Michael. I’m okay, see? No one is going to hurt me._

_You hurt yourself w-why why would you do that Mikey why_

_I… Remember last year, when our teacher said I was not learning as fast, and therefore something must be wrong with me?_

Jeremy nodded.

_Y-yeah_

_Well, I guess that hurt me a lot. I was struggling, and stress was piling up…_

Why could Michael expose his very soul to Jeremy, a boy who couldn’t help him, but when he was in front of a therapist who actually wanted to help, the words got clogged in his throat?  

_B-but why?_

_I don't know. I'm so sorry, Jere-Bear, I-_

Oh great, now Michael's crying. They’re two boys, crying over a dumb decision that Michael made in a time of his mind going completely blank. But yet…

Michael feels a little better. Crying over it with his best friend, one of his mother's soothing the both of them, is… therapeutic.

Jeremy looks up at him, his eyes puffy and red, tear tracks running down his face. He sniffs, then rubs his eyes.

_I’m sorry_

_What's there to be sorry for?_

Jeremy makes eye contact, his eyes tear up again and his bottom lip quivers, then he flings himself into Michael’s arms, crying into his shoulder with great, heaving sobs.

_I should’ve noticed I'm so sorry Mikey I didn't see I didn't stop you I'm so so sorry_

_It's okay, I'm still here, I'm alive, I'm right here, ssh, it's okay. I’m not going anywhere, okay?_

_O-okay_

They hug tightly, Michael’s shoulder growing wet, but he doesn’t care.

Jeremy doesn't seem to care about his shoulder, either.

It's a blissful peace, starting when Michael's mom leaves the two alone so they can talk, and the hug relaxes a little, so the Jeremy isn't completely suffocating Michael, but they're still hugging.

_I love you_

Jeremy mumbles it, so softly, and Michael smiles for what seems like the first time in years.

_I love you too_

_I'm gonna help you_

_Okay_

_Please never do it again_

_I promise_

_Please, Michael_

_I promise with all my heart_

_Pinky promise?_

_Yeah_

They pull apart, tightly linking their pinkies together. Michael leans forward, resting his forehead on Jeremy’s.

_This applies to you too, Jere. Don't do what I did. It hurts, and it’s scary, and I don't want you doing that._

_I promise._

\---

When Jeremy and Michael were in eighth grade, Michael cut himself.

It wasn’t for very long; Michael came clean about a month into him doing it.

Michael cried, his Mama cried, and when his Nanay heard what he had been doing, she cried. Michael told them about the stress of school and how everything he learned was too difficult, and they fixed it. Michael went to therapy, and his most recent cut was from the beginning of ninth grade, where he had panicked over a bad grade.

It was a scary time in Michael’s life, but Jeremy was scared, too. The scariest thing for Jeremy was that he didn’t _know._ Michael had been his happy, silly self in eighth grade, and when Jeremy saw the scars crossing over his wrists, he had nightmares for weeks.

Michael had made Jeremy swear to never cut himself, the pact solidified with their pinkies interlocked. Back then, Jeremy never saw a reason for him to cut, or harm himself.

After the SQUIP incident, Jeremy still kept the promise, only with a few modifications that went unchecked by Michael.

Jeremy scratched himself.

When everything got to be _too much_ and _too many voices_ and _everything about you is sosososo terrible_ he would drag his nail across his forearm, making the surface pink and warm. He would get caught up in it, and soon he would flex his bicep and trace his nail through the soft skin, watching the lines go from white to pink. It's a pretty sight, despite the awful meaning behind it.

Jeremy doesn't cut, because he's afraid of pain, which sounds _so_ dumb considering what he's doing, but he doesn’t want to be reminded of what he did. With scratching, there's a little ache and a little redness, nothing more. No scars that you have to carry for the rest of your life, which is what Michael is forced to do.

He's not alone, either. He sees Rich pull his sweater sleeve over a bite mark on the space just under his thumb and above his wrist, keeping it hidden until it disappeared. Jeremy once walked into the bathroom, and saw Rich, with tears dripping from his chin and nose, biting savagely on his hand.

_Don't tell anyone, I'll handle this myself_

_Okay… please don't-_

_Yeah, yeah, I know. I won't go that far, alright?_

_Alright._

He sees Jake pick at his skin in the hallways, and Jeremy realizes that he had been doing that for a while now, even before Junior Year, and oh God, is Jake actually okay? What's his story?

Jeremy knows, at some point, he has to tell people. He can't keep doing this, he knows, but a voice asks _why not? You're not hurting yourself too much. A little scratching never hurt anyone. Neither does biting or picking, you’re all fine._

But then, one day, when Jeremy’s head goes completely blank from white-hot panic and fear and _I don't deserve to live die die die_ Jeremy wakes up on his bed to Michael shaking him, yelling, and one of his hands wrapping toilet paper around his arm.

Michael was rambling, but Jeremy caught a few details.

 _He called. Crying. Begging for It to stop. Michael ran over, and sees Jeremy on the ground in the bathroom, arms bleeding from nails digging deep into his skin and_ **_pulling_ ** _and blood everywhere, on your shirt, oh God, I was so scared_

Michael is rubbing the tears from his eyes as he talks, sniffing and hiccuping. Jeremy sits up, wincing at the pain in his arms, saying

_Michael, I-_

_You promised, Jeremy! In Freshman Year, you promised me! I don't want you like this! I care about you too much-_

_You care?! Well, if this is you caring, then stop! If this is care, being told by my dad that you didn't want a damn thing to do with me after you tried to talk to me, once, under the influence, then I don't want it!_

Silence.

Why did Jeremy say that?

_What?_

_I- I-_

_No, no, what do you mean?_

_D-dad told me that, after the party, you… oh God_

_No, Jeremy, it's okay. What?_

_When you were drunk you ran into me at the party and you started yelling at me and I was scared so I-_

_Is that why?_

_Huh?_

_You left?_

_Oh God, I’m so sorry, I-_

_No, no, hey. I messed up, too._

_How?!_

_I never tried to reach out. I kept to myself, figuring that you didn't want anything to do with me-_

_Michael, I-_

_Lemme finish, okay?_

_...okay._

_I never tried to talk to you, Jeremy. You would talk to me, and I would snap at you. At the party, dear God, I got so drunk. You ran into me, and I wasn't thinking straight._

_But I-_

_Ssh. Yeah, my anxiety got bad, and I guess our little talk was the breaking point._

_But-_

Michael put a hand on Jeremy's mouth.

_Sha sha sha, Jeremiah. But, Jere, I never tried again. I should have, because I saw how much you were hurting at the play, sweet Jesus, you cried when the SQUIP deactivated. You were begging for it to stop, and when I went over to you, you grabbed my sleeve and started apologizing so much. Then you fainted, and I freaked, a lot, and I guess then the audience realized that, holy shit, this isn't acting, these kids are actually like dropping like flies, call 911, blah blah._

Jeremy struggles out of Michael’s grip.

_But I abandoned you!_

_Jeremy, you couldn't even see me!_

_I blocked you! I made the choice! I'm a awful friend I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so so so sorry_

Jeremy is panicking again, his eyes wide and his hands gripping his hair.

_Jeremy-_

_No! I made all the mistakes here! I should take all the blame! You didn't do anything, and I hurt you and Brooke so much!_

Jeremy is breathing raggedly. Michael tries to get his hands away from his scalp, but the little sparks of pain when Jeremy dislodges his hair from his head and the constant ache of gripping his hair feels so _good_ and he can't stop, and his vision is going grey and fuzzy like a TV when a channel disconnects, and his mind is a whirlwind of hatred and pain and _terrible awful slob freak_

_Jere, hey, breathe, it's okay, I'm right here, it's okay, it's okay_

Why does Michael always have to do everything for Jeremy? Even in ninth grade, when Michael showed him his cuts, he was too much of a damn _wimp_ to not cry about it, even though Michael had been through so much worse, but he still had to take care of Jeremy's pathetic ass. God, why couldn’t Jeremy do anything _right_ for once?

_It'll be okay, just breathe with me, okay? Think about that cool breathing circle we saw, remember? It would expand when you breathed in, I think, and hold, and then shrink when you breathe out. Can you do that? Can you try?_

Jeremy starts to breathe, his lungs feeling new and unused, like a balloon that keeps on wanting to let out air too early.

_Just like that, honey, you're doing so well, I’m so proud of you._

Jeremy notices the pet name, but doesn't say anything about it. He kinda likes it, since Michael is saying it.

Jeremy breathes slower, his hands loosening from his hair. The bandages on his arms are torn, and he sees a stark, bleeding line that is a fingernail wide running down his arm, and he feels the burning and _ow._

_I know, it hurts. I’m sorry. Do you want better bandages?_

_Yeah._

Michael gets up, and stays in full view for Jeremy to watch his movements as he grabs ace bandages, anti-septic, and cotton balls.

He comes back, and slowly unwraps the paper encircling Jeremy's arms, Jeremy flinching as he tugged on dried blood that had adhered to the tissue. Once his left arm is clear, Michael gets a cotton ball ready, and slowly starts swiping it around the wounds.

_Ow-!_

Michael cringes, but keeps going.

_Sorry._

One arm is finished and bound, and they go to the other one. It's quiet, and the silence goes in as white noise, a faint buzzing, in Jeremy’s ears.

_I'm sorry._

_For what?_

_Everything_

_It's okay. We’ll get through this together, okay? You don't have to do this alone._

Jeremy nods, and watches Michael clean up the ragged tears on his arm. Michael hums a song under his breath, and Jeremy vaguely recognizes it. It's a Shawn Mendes song.

The quiet is a blanket that covers everything, warm but suffocating after a while. Jeremy needed to pop up from under the blanket for air.

_I love you._

And, maybe, Jeremy sees Michael blush a little (a lot.) His heart is racing as Michael finishes with his right arm, and drops the bloodied cotton ball into the trash can.

_I love you too._

Jeremy shakes his head.

_No. That's not what I meant._

_Wha-_

Jeremy takes a breath to steel his nerves, saying _you can't back out, this is serious, you need to do this_ to himself before kissing Michael’s forehead. Michael lets out a choked noise, and Jeremy's heart drops.

_Wait, I-_

Michael looks at Jeremy, his eyes glistening.

_I love you too._

Michael kisses Jeremy’s nose, and if this wasn't such a monumental time in Jeremy’s life, he would giggle, but he is in so much emotional and physical exhaustion that he just stares.

_What-?_

_I've loved you for so long, Jere-Bear. I’be wanted to do that since fifth grade_

_Oh_

Jeremy blinks, then winces when his bandages rub and irritate the tears in his skin. Michael moves closer, and coos softly.

_Here, gimme your arms._

Jeremy gives Michael his arms, and they feel heavy and hot, but Michael moves them so that they aren't rubbing against Jeremy's skin.

_Better?_

_Yeah_

Jeremy and Michael sit in peace, Jeremy starting to fall asleep. Michael runs his fingers through his hair, letting Jeremy rest on his shoulder.

_Are we dating?_

Michael shrugs in response.

_I dunno. Do you wanna?_

_Yeah, I guess._

A giggle.

_This is so awkward_

_I know, right?_

Michael laughs softly, and Jeremy smiles.

_I love you as a boyfriend._

_I do too, Miah._

A soft kiss to Jeremy’s hair.

_You don't have to do this alone, okay? I'm here, everyone's here, we all love you so much, Jere. We will be here when you’re going through your tough times, and after them._

_Okay_

_You helped me through my times, now I can help you through yours._

_Equal exchange?_

_As the laws of alchemy say: to obtain something, you must do something in equal value to earn it._

_Haha._

Jeremy snuggles closer.

_Night._

_Night. Are we telling your dad?_

_Yeah, no duh_

_Okay._

Jeremy falls asleep to Michael singing in his ear, the pain in his arms becoming duller as he slipped under.

 _Give me a sign, take my hand, we'll be fine. Promise I won't let you down, just know that you don't have to do this alone, I promise that I'll never let you down._ _  
_

Jeremy smiles in his sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry this started as a fic I wrote when I was trying to get myself to stop scratching 
> 
> Happier things are in the works, I promise
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope I didn't make you cry
> 
> P.S.: the 'sha, sha, sha' thing is from 'Rags,' a musical that I got into. It's used to shush someone, like 'ssh.' Confusing, I know. Sorry, once again.


End file.
